


On the Edge

by Vodkassassin



Category: Fairy Tail, Naruto
Genre: Big sister aquarius, Dimension Travel, Earth Land (Fairy Tail), He wants to know more, Hokage Uzumaki Naruto, Mental Health Issues, Naruto is from a war torn world, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, S class mages, The war with madara took a bit longer than in canon, Worldbuilding, broken Naruto Uzumaki, but they’re similar enough to make it work, chakra is not the same as magic, compared to the elemental nations it’s Just Baby, dimension hopping, earth land is a baby world, he sick of it but it’s all he knows, its so fresh and green, naruto has seen a lot more death, naruto’s mental state is an absolute mess, new found family, post-war mentality, stranded Naruto, they lost a lot of people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 19:07:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20662241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vodkassassin/pseuds/Vodkassassin
Summary: Even the Hokage feared being taken. He had nightmares of his own, and he never wanted to see them come to light.He’s taken anyway. He makes the most of it. Maybe one day he’ll make it back home to everyone, to his family and friends, but for now... who says he can’t make family and friends here, too?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this years ago but never posted it anywhere. I get pretty far too! I’m proud of little past me, they worked pretty hard on this. I might continue it, but for now I’m just gonna post what I have on maybe a weekly basis, idk.

Death had always been something that loomed over his head. In his line of work, it was an expectation that one was to always keep in mind. Missions were dangerous, training was dangerous; the very act of living was dangerous in the way that it co-existed with its final demise. To be killed was an imminent future, so you must be sure to always expect it. Be prepared for the worst. And death, oddly enough(or maybe it made more sense than it didn’t) was  _ not  _ the worst.

It sure felt like it, though.

It was hollow, but at the same time you felt like you were far too full of everything to even think about emptiness. Too many words to say, too many thoughts to think, too many memories to sort through. Time was a rarity in those last moments, precious in the way that you longed for more and yet knew it would never come. 

It was cold. Freezing as if you were buried far beneath the icy grounds of the north, and there was no air to be breathed there. However, it also had that warmth to it, like ice would have when it got far, far too cold. A numbness that just sort of lingered and settled deep into your bones. 

It was quiet. Even when you were struck down on the noisiest battleground, the sound acts on its own and fades into the blackness that begins to seep into your vision, encompassing the edges first and finally beginning to inch its way toward the center. And you felt like it was drilling straight through to your heart.

It was terrifying, because you started to  _ know  _ things. You knew death, you saw its face. You remembered everything you’d ever done wrong--to which you then suddenly realized the correct answers. You’re consumed by the overwhelming desire to go back(fix them, make them right). But, you also knew that you  _ couldn't _ . It wasn’t possible, it wasn’t allowed. After all, time was a one-way street.

That’s what was really horrible about death. You  _ know _ , and yet you can do nothing.

All you can do was wait. You can barely move, your hearing begins to malfunction and even your breaths wind down to nothing.

It was the end of the road. The end of the journey that was life. And it fell straight over a cliff, leaving you absolutely weightless.

Even with it being something of a requirement, he’d never really thought about being killed before. Sure, it was always a very real possibility--especially now, while in the very heart of the  _ war _ . With death, and dying, and crying souls all around him, he’d only really had one sole focus.

Protecting his friends. Keeping his home safe.

Even when they were broken and defeated, again and again, with hollow cheeks and sunken eyes and skin that had lost its healthy glow  _ years  _ before; they still managed to smile at him. Still huddled close to him before the campfires on cold nights when even his elemental seals couldn't keep the harsh winds away. Still discussed plans for after the war with him--what would they do, where would they go?

Sakura and Ino had this dream of resurrecting Inoichi’s old flower shop, right in the center of the newly built village. 

Shika wanted to move onto architecture, and help Hanabi design the new Konoha. Gaara and Temari were both interested in this, as well, and had this idea of possibly merging many of the smaller Suna and Konoha villages, right along the border where humid air and sandy plains met with the forest green.

Sai wanted to be able to sit in a meadow and paint it without having to worry about being called away before he even got to the butterflies’ wings.

Konohamaru and his two genin team-mates had thoughts of opening a tea-shop.

Genma wanted to drag Raidou, Kotetsu and Izumo off on a long road trip. The four never debated about any destination, and never spoke of how long they wanted to be traveling for. They were only interested in the journey. 

Sasuke had been rather taken with Konohamaru’s tea shop idea, and sometimes joked about opening a sweet shop right across the street from them.

Shino and Anko were often caught discussing what it would take to turn the old Training Ground 44 area into a wildlife preserve.

Kakashi didn’t seem to care much about such dreams, but they all knew he had some small desire to perhaps retire and become a librarian, for some reason.

Hinata liked Sakura and Ino’s dream, and thought that maybe she’d help them. But she was known for switching between that and helping everyone else with their dream; the Hyuuga clan head wasn’t really partial to any of them. She just wanted  _ something _ . 

And Naruto… 

_ He was right on the  _ ** _edge_ ** .

It had been almost a decade since Konoha fell to its knees, flames dancing along the rooftops and smoke clogging the air. Gaara and the other kages had been meeting to discuss a treaty between the five shinobi nations, but even with all of them together protecting the village,  _ Madara wouldn’t stop _ (he couldn’t  _ be  _ stopped. He was like poison without an antidote, that choked the life from the leaves and dug its stinging infection right down to the very roots).

Naruto had  _ never  _ wanted to become Hokage like this.

It had been a field promotion, with an unanimous vote of 500,000 shinobi. Many of them had been from the other nations, and three of them had been kage themselves. Tsunade’s body had been burned alongside Shizune and Kiba’s in the mass cremation after that particular battle. When it had started, Naruto had been excited, because he’d finally(after the long, gruelling task of examining the seal and studying and  _ studying _ ) broken the code in his father’s notes and learned the  _ Hirashin _ .

Even with that,  _ he was too slow _ .

Even with that, the old lady, neechan, and the dog still fell. 

He shut his eyes tightly and spun away from the view of the battleground that had been a farmer’s wheat field just that morning. The civilian family that had lived there were dead, even the baby girl, and the house they’d lived in was completely demolished. The ground had been pulverized and was reduced to a muddy pit laced with sweat, blood, tears and limbs strewn everywhere from the Uchiha’s last Susano’o attack. 

With the soil so absolutely damaged, he seriously doubted there'd be any crops growing here any time in the near future. Or beyond that, with the way things were going...

He Body Flickered ahead, flitting down the twisting forested path as a blur. As he reached to bottom to meet with his second in command, who’d been waiting for him, he tugged his red ANBU-issued scarf over his face, a habit he’d come upon whenever he was deep in thought. The scarf wasn’t new, but it wasn’t old and torn either. He’d made sure to keep it in relatively good condition since the time he’d received it, during his promotion from regular ANBU captain to the captain commander. He was a bit attached to it, now, and wore it along with his father’s cloak.

Now he had the title of Hokage to go along with it--something that still caught him off guard, since he tended to forget that small fact until it hit him hard in the face (perhaps it was something he repressed, because he still felt like an inadequate replacement for the old hag, and that was a truth he knew would never change). Which was a bit ridiculous if one thought about it long enough, considering how long it had been...

“Hokage-dono,” a voice called to him softly, quietly. That was his  _ name _ , now; he hadn’t heard the name  _ Naruto _ from a single mouth in three years. At first it had felt like a betrayal (he’d worked hard for the  _ acknowledgement _ , the nod toward his very own existence), because even his friends used the title in reference to the blond, whiskered leader of Konoha.

But now, he was a different man from the rowdy teen who had thought the disappearance of his name a slight against himself. Now, he had a presence; he wasn’t loud and rarely needed to yell because, when he spoke, people  _ listened _ (they finally listened, after an entire childhood of living in a village of the deaf), and when he gave an order, it was executed to the letter.

He was different, because Naruto, that knuckleheaded kid who had graffitied the Hokage Monument with paint just before graduation, really was gone. In his place stood a man that would make his father and all the Hokage’s before him proud- -yet perhaps his father would have been saddened to see the cheerful child of his wife’s womb vanish, only to be replaced by this… mature, yet broken copy.

Everyone knows copies can't make up for the real thing. 

A hand touched his shoulder, and he sighed, looking Shikamaru in the eye. It hadn’t even been up for debate, everyone knew the Nara heir was the one for the job. He was smart, possibly even more calculating than his father. His strategies worked, and the Hokage listened to him- -how could he not?

Because, for all that the young Naruto had claimed Sasuke as his rival, Shikamaru had always been his best friend. His first friend. He’d known Naruto, he’d  _ known  _ the Jinchuuriki (having figured out the horribly-kept secret of the Third’s Law while they were all still in the Academy). He’d actually paid mind to the blond child’s existence, and he’d never left his side; even if he stayed within the shadows.

And, when even  _ Chouji _ had been _ …  _ Well, Naruto was the only one Shikamaru had left. Ino was still close with the dark-eyed, scarred man, but she really didn't… there was something missing there. Something big, that neither of the remaining members of team ten were able to find. 

“Please pay attention, Hokage-dono,” the second in command sighed, taking him by the shoulder and leading him to where the camps were situated in the valley. The low ground had them all uneasy, and they were trying to push their way through the Oto troops and up to the larger mountain. The night was quiet, and no one liked it. 

Quiet meant that  _ plans  _ were being made. 

The Hokage eyed his friend silently. He wasn’t one to talk unless the situation called for it, but his second was different. 

“I know everything I need to know, Shika,” he breathed in slowly, trying to filter out the polluted air. It was smoky, tasting like dust and the ashes of his soldiers. “We’ve been discussing this for days.”

“Then you know how crucial time is,” the other told him seriously, stopping and turning to face him. He placed both hands on the Hokage’s shoulders. “I’m not going to lie; it looks pretty bad for us. Bee-dono was the only other Jinchuuriki we had left. You’re our only hope for a powerful attack that has the chance to take  _ him  _ out.”

_ Him _ . It was what they all called the enemy. The Oto-nin were broken puppets, and belonged to him. They were his, and the ninja fighting for freedom had nightmares on the darker nights, of being taken captive.

Because, when the Sound took you, it was common knowledge that you usually became one of them. One too many times had a ninja found themselves facing a brother or trusted, dear comrade. They’d glance up, only to see the musical note etched into their headbands, where the kanji for  _ ‘shinobi’  _ had previously been. 

It was heartbreaking, yet there wasn’t anything they could do about it but try their best not to be taken themselves. Many claimed suicide, if they saw no way out. And the ones that might have been strong enough to resist  _ his  _ recalibration (it was brainwashing. He took their souls out and stuffed them with pre-programmed commands, as if they were shadow clones instead of people) never came back. And slowly, the memory of their faces faded out until you couldn’t really remember what they’d looked like in the first place. 

Even the Hokage feared being taken. He had nightmares of his own, and he never wanted to see them come to light. He tilted his head in thought.

It was…  _ troublesome _ , in a twisted, ugly way, that he was their only hope. For years he’d dreamed of the chance to be looked to with that thought. He’d be the knight in shining armor, come to save everyone.

Now? The  _ knight’s  _ armor was bloodied and pierced one too many times, and more than half of that  _ everyone  _ was dead. 

But they circled that notion; training him in a number of arts, even previously closely-kept family techniques (Ino, his thoughts flickered, and some of her family jutsu- -not the mind walking jutsu, of course. He didn't have the blood for it, but the Yamanaka clan had a ton of other techniques that before now only a Yaman a ka would have known. Hanabi, he reminded himself (he had to remember, it was important) and her clan’s taijutsu. He didn't have the eyes for it (not at first) but after Neji had lost his it had been proven that there were ways around that) to give him an edge.  _ The Hokage _ was a self-volunteered weapon of mass destruction, carefully crafted by various shinobi, from every nation, and bijuu in order to bring death to the enemy.

Before Bee had fallen, just that morning, his demon had been teaching him more in the knowledge of fuuinjutsu- -and the Hokage considered the possibility of him rising above even the Fourth in terms of sealing skill. Kurama, too, took part in moulding him into the perfect killer; they’d merged, now. It was helped along by the Yamanaka mental skills he’d been mentored in, for which he was thankful, even if the merge had brought something troublesome along with it (he was twenty-five years old; he'd been twenty five years old for three years, and he would stay twenty-five years old until the even dust of the earth was a mere memory in the depths of his cobwebbed thoughts). 

Sasuke had taught him the sacred, world-renowned sword techniques of his clansmen. Once he’d finished everything the Sharingan-eyed man could teach him, he’d been gifted with an Uchiha-crafted ninjato.

It was alike to his ANBU-captain scarf, in terms of importance to him. Kiba(clan marks skinned from his cheeks and what was left of his face moistened by tears as he tried to smile a goodbye) had once teased him about how he even slept with it, but the blonde hadn’t minded. He slept in his scarf, too. 

“I’ll kill him,” he breathed, and it wasn’t something that even resembled a swear. It wasn’t an oath, or a growl of angered words. It was stated as a cold fact that they’d considered over and over again. Shika sent him a knowing look before turning back to lead the way.

“I’ll kill him, and then my people can finally breathe,” he murmured, following after.

The first thing he noticed was the crisp, stinging scent of anesthetic. They should have known better, he thought. The drug had stopped working on him ages ago; its only effect was the temporary block it put on his overpowered sense of smell. They all knew, so he pondered that maybe they’d used it on purpose...

“He’s waking up,” a voice spoke. There was darkness around him, but it wasn’t the black that comes with restless sleep on the nights after a mass cremation of their day’s fallen. It was a numb, blurring shadow that sat over his vision. There was dim light on the edges, but he still couldn’t see.

It took him a while until he finally remembered why he was in the surgical operation tent.

He cursed, though it lacked the fire, sitting up. They all took a step back and held up their hands with rather sheepish grins, but he ignored them, eyes instead zeroing in on the indigo-haired beauty to his left. Or, more specifically, the eye-patch she now wore over her right eye.

“I told you  _ I could do without it _ ,” he informed them all accusingly. His voice was calm and quiet, the words slow and precise. He hadn’t yelled, but they still flinched back, as if he had. The anger was still there. “I didn’t need it.”

“We know,” the Hyuuga spoke soothingly, approaching him and laying a gentle hand on his bicep. The muscles were tensed from the tight grip he held on the cot’s railing, and he gave her a penetrating stare. She held steady (that’s why he loved Hinata. From the strange, possibly-anemic waifish young princess in the academy, she’d grown into a fearsome warrior that dared not back down from any threat that came to face her. He admired her with a burning pride that sat oddly in his heart), and once he sat back after a moment, she continued. 

“We know,” Hinata repeated, “but it was my decision. I need to feel confident that you’re safe when you kill  _ him _ .” She reached out to cup his face between her hands, and he vaguely sensed the others turning their faces away. 

He opened his mouth to say… well, he wasn’t sure, but he  _ would  _ let them know they’d made a mistake in going against his wishes like this.

“Hokage-kun, he took our family from us, just as he’s taken that from everyone,” Hinata told him, taking notice of this. She touched the patch over his own right eye with a gentle finger that came with the foreknowledge, from experience, that even the slightest pressure could send waves of agony deep into one’s skull. He clenched his fists. 

“I need to see it.” She said quietly. “Please, let me see  _ him  _ on the ground, let me see  _ him  _ crushed, and bleeding, and begging.”

He stilled, fists slowly unclenching as he finally understood why,  _ why  _ she’d had the others go behind his back to do this.

“I need to see it with my own eye,” the feather-light touch traced the edges of the bloodied dressings around his new (It was hers, it was  _ Hinata’s _ ) eye, that doubled as a twisted tribute to his sensei’s past.

He reached up to place his hand over hers, over the eye that lay beneath the bandages. The Byakugan.

“Hanabi will be excited to be able to teach me the rest of the Juuken,” was all he said. Hinata smiled tearfully. 

Madara was killed, a few weeks later, just as planned.

He just hadn’t expected to die with him. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s fan fiction **I do what I want**

It was a different kind of captivity than he’d dreamed about in his nightmares. A different kind than what ninja like him trained to overcome. Different in the way that they didn’t want to reprogram him like Sound had. No, they wanted to take him apart and search for the reason as to why he existed.

He wasn’t from this place. This wasn’t the Elemental Nations. The  _ air  _ was different, what he’d seen of even the  _ grass  _ was different, down to its shade of green and the very texture of its individual blades. They were much softer, from what he’d had the time to feel beneath his feet. Like the down feathers of robin chicks. Weak and thin. 

The sounds were different, the animals were different, the people were… different. Very different. But what really told him that the Kamui hadn’t just taken him and tossed him back out somewhere else in his homeland was the  _ energy _ . The energy in the soil and the trees and the birds and the  _ wind _ . The fire far, far beneath the dirt and stone surface of the planet he stood on was made of an entirely different warmth than  _ chakra _ .

His own was the same, but this energy in the people who had come upon him and taken him was  _ not _ . 

He was tied down on a metal table, something he was quite familiar with, having been on the team that went and searched through every single one of Orochimaru’s known labs after the Snake Sannin had been taken care of. He thought he’d seen it all.

As always, that notion was utterly wrong.

He shared a sort of kinship with the twisted shinobi’s guinea pigs, now. Like them, he’d been cut open, had seen each and every one of his own organs. Like them, he’d watched as his blood was examined and played with; mixed with chemicals and other  _ ‘samples’ _ . Felt the agony of electrocution to an experimental degree.

Different than them, in the way his wounds closed up after every session. 

But Kyuubi was getting…  _ tired _ . 

“Pass the tubing gauge,” one said. The other handed it to him, and the ex-Hokage (because there was no  _ Konoha  _ here. His people were  _ gone and he was alone _ .  _ Alone and broken and lost. _ ) tilted his head back to rest against the cold steel surface of the examination table. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth.

It hurt, it hurt and he didn’t know how to ignore it. He didn’t know how to overcome this type of  _ pain _ .

After Orochimaru, there had been much talk of instilling a new program that most all the shinobi would be required to undergo, one that taught resistance against torture using scientific methods. Eventually, anyone would break if the perpetrator went far enough (however loath they were to submit to even the  _ idea _ of another Orochimaru, because one had been  _ enough _ ), and the possibilities of using a scalpel and measurements of chemicals and the knowledge of biology in torture were  _ endless _ .

They’d wanted to give their soldiers an edge against it.

Regrettably, the war broke out before anything could be finalized or planned; not even the Hokage herself had undergone the training.

He knew, as a different instrument pierced his flesh (they wanted to see his heart again, he decided. Apparently it had an extra chamber or something that pumped blood at a faster rate when in certain situations, and lay dormant in others-- _ they wanted to see if they could trigger it _ ), that he had absolutely no other way of avoiding their maniacal grins that hovered above his face and behind surgical masks, other than what he was already trained for. 

But that had only covered average torture methods that were common among ninja missions.

This  _ wasn’t _ average torture methods that were common among ninja missions.

This was  _ unknown _ .

As it was, the young ninja’s mind  _ broke  _ the moment they chained him back into the special, energy-infused glass case after the pain of the final day, on the ninth month. 

And then all anyone knew was  _ fire _ . 

  
  


The world was a beautiful place. He might have even said it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, but that would be a bold-faced lie. Nothing could ever be more breathtaking than the lush green forests of his home, however hazy and blurred the memories of a time when there was indeed such greenery were.

Still, he couldn’t delude himself. The birds’ songs were a genre of music he’d never heard before, different as they were from the ones back in the Elemental nations. The very bark of the trees felt alien beneath his fingertips, and the dirt was a completely contrasting temperature than what he was used to.

It wasn’t mixed with blood and embers, either. The feeling of such a clean ecosystem was unbelievably refreshing, because he’d never once entertained the idea of living again on a planet that wasn’t soaked in the tears of war. He’d long ago resigned himself to forever breathe the polluted air of death and decay, even after the war was won(he’d never let the idea of losing form in his mind. They would win, they  _ had _ to, and they  _ did _ ).

Once the battles had become a daily occurrence, even their chakra had started to feel as if it were ill. Everything tasted like ash and smoke, and it had gotten to the point where entire platoons refused to eat until they started to starve, growing so sick of the thought of ingesting the burnings of the corpses that were once their beloved comrades. 

He shook his head and curled up on the tree branch of the oak. He’d chosen it because it had been the highest he could find, and the bark, however different, held similar designs to the oaks he’d climbed in his childhood. 

He’d washed in the river and dressed in a fresh outfit he’d long since kept sealed away on his body for occasions such as this one (the scientists had had no idea what the ‘tattoos’ had actually signified, and for that he was forever grateful, because if they’d figured it out he’d have been left with  _ nothing _ ). He’d scavenged the forest, diagnosed a multitude of plants and fruit and nuts as safe to eat, and was now begone of the horrible pinching in his abdomen that had demanded sustenance. 

Yet, despite being void of dirt and blood, he still felt filthy. He knew the sense would never go away--he’d once caught his sensei, who had participated in the Second Great War, scrubbing hard at himself in the hot springs. A few of the other jounin of similar circumstance had the habit as well. They tended to come out of the bath houses with red skin that he knew didn’t come from the hot water. 

He sucked in a fresh breath of the air that he didn’t think he would ever get used to being so crisp, and turned his gaze over the sandy dunes that dotted the landscape from the treeline to the harbor. 

He had never even seen an ocean until he was twelve years old, and the situation in which he finally did hadn’t been a fond memory. Even so, the melody of crashing waves had become his favorite lullaby. On the somber nights after a half-hearted victory that was soured with the loss of many friends, the coastal background noise had always worked like a charm in putting him to sleep. Not a  _ restful  _ one (he hadn’t truly slept an entire night since he was sixteen and the loss of his godfather was still fresh and heavy on his heart), but he did wake, those times, with more energy than he usually did. 

He closed his eyes and tilted his head back to rest against the trunk of the oak, ignoring the tiny blue-bird that was pecking curiously at the bandages that held his pant legs down over his standard-issue ANBU boots, and breathed in again.

The breeze on the coast was divergent from other terrain, a bit saltier, crisper. Not in the chilling way that Wave had, but in a way that somehow made you feel warmer inside. It tasted like seafood and reminded him of some of the toppings on his favorite meal--or that one time Sakura’s parents had invited all of the rookies over for a barbeque of the fish they’d bought off a merchant from the Isles.

They’d been slightly colder to him than they had to anyone else, but he’d only been glad they hadn’t just  _ forgotten  _ to invite him at all. It remained one of his favorite memories, to this day. 

The blue bird gave a gentle tweet into his ear, and he shifted sleepily, opening an eye--Hinata’s eye(she always had been fond of birds)--to inquire what it wanted. The tiny avian tilted its head at him, before hopping away from its place on his shoulder and onto his head, where it settled down comfortably.

He’d always figured that, having the Kyuubi’s influence, animals would be a bit more wary of him than they were of even normal civilians. That had been when he’d just discovered he was its Jinchuuriki, and, despite having thought of himself as a sort of animal whisperer before (they’d been his only friends throughout his childhood, and he was terrified that they’d leave him), he was unsure of what they’d think of him once he’d finally figured out why the villagers all called him ‘demon.’

The animals hadn’t cared. In fact, they seemed to be even friendlier after he’d become aware of his tenant. And once they’d  _ merged… _

“You can sleep there if you wish,” he sighed, voice softer than the shifting wind. “But stay with me for a while, okay?”

The blue bird chirped softly, tiny talons stretching against his blond hair. The ninja sat back carefully and settled down for an entire afternoon of listening to the waves.

He was content, here. This world was clean and peaceful, and he knew that his friends were safe because  _ he  _ was finally,  _ finally _ , dead.There was nothing more for him to do. Sure, Madara had managed to drag him into his kamui, but he was a  _ Namikaze _ . He had the luck of the devil. 

It always had a catch, though. He’d survived the kamui and had ended up in a world relatively free from all shinobi dangers--but those nasty Orochimaru wanna-bes had come upon him in his weakest moment. They’d twisted his mind and maxed out his nerve-endings. He’d never undergone so much pain, in such creative ways. He’d been on the edge all throughout the war, taxing his mental facilities in a way that no other ninja could boast. Here, they’d been completely broken, and he wasn’t just  _ on  _ the edge; he  _ was  _ the edge (and possibly past it, but he tried not to think about what that would mean for him). 

He was different now than from when he’d first arrived here. Before, he’d been quiet in a tense way that spoke of untold experience in the world’s very worst. But now… he wasn’t quite sure. He felt almost like a child who had gotten separated from its parents but couldn’t quite remember who his parents were, let alone where they’d be, or even how to find them. There was an overwhelming curiosity inside him that just begged to be set free to explore this new land, to see new sights (new, there was an entire  _ planet  _ full of brand new things that he’d never set eyes on before,; full of a new  _ life energy _ that was clean and full and felt like a mother holding him in it’s embrace). 

And yet, there was another part of him that just wanted to sit on this oak branch, high in the top of the rolling, forested hills forever and ever, and dream of the stars.

He didn’t belong here. He belonged in a world of bloodshed and tragedy and nightmares gone horribly wrong, but…

There was a shift at his crown, and he opened his eyes slowly to watch his tiny blue friend hop down onto his chest. It teetered around for a while, before looking up at him, again with that tilted head. He didn’t move as it began to bounce forward until it reached just under his chin. 

They stared at one another for a moment, frozenly, before the creature shifted and gently placed its tiny beak in between his lips. He blinked down at it, stunned, and it chirped happily before fluttering away to one of the smaller branches of the oak above his head, somewhere that couldn’t support even a ninja’s slight weight. 

He touched a finger to his lips curiously, ignoring the deep rumble of laughter that echoed from within his mind, telling him that his tenant was laughing at him for being kissed by a bird. 

Edge placed one palm over the back of his other hand and angled them both into a triangle. He took a breath, then tilted his body forward to fall over the cliff’s face. A moment's silence of only the wind whistling past him, before he embraced the cool, salty waters of the sea. 

He’d given into the desire to explore. Everything was just so addicting here. Colorful flora and gentle animal life that tended to cuddle up beside him when he took long naps in the branches of the tall trees(not as tall as the trees of the First’s technique, but tall enough that he could see his surrounding from a bird’s eye view), and fresh air so clean that sometimes he felt his eyes stinging with the relief that his lungs felt, to be free of smoke and ashes.

The language here wasn’t so different from what he originally spoke. And he liked learning different tongues enough that it was easy to translate. They were like verbal codes, that only needed to be broken to be understood; and the written language like seals, but far, far simpler to decipher.

He’d come to be near a harbor town named Hargeon. It had boats coming in and out, but what he had really been interested in was the library. It was adequately stocked with enough books to keep him sated for a while, and all it took was the simple task of slipping in and out during the night. It seemed that the people of this world were not nearly as tight in security as the ones from his home. That, or they were just not used to the stealth skills of a ninja.

As Edge read on, mysteries began to solve themselves before he even noticed their existence. This world had, not chakra, but  _ magic _ \--that was the name of the energy he felt around him even now. It didn’t have warrior shinobi, it had  _ mages _ .

And they didn’t kill. Usually.

Because honestly, it made sense that a world with humanity inhabiting it would have something like murder. He could safely assume that every realm had its own version of the cycle of hatred, because there really wasn’t  _ any  _ perfection in the universe--contrary from what Obito had so fruitlessly yearned for.

It appeared that this world didn’t have it as bad as his had. These so-called ‘Dark Guilds’ seemed to be far fewer in number than the books exaggerated. 

He twisted around in the water and, with a quick seal placed over his lips, one that filtered the water into oxygen(he’d created it himself for infiltration purposes, when Sound had established a base in what had once been the Bloody Mist. Of course, this was far before they all began to fear being captured, and such missions dwindled into nonexistence), and he shot off into the depths, searching for the coral reef he’d noted earlier from the top reaches of the highest pine. It was spread out pretty far from what he’d seen, and he’d been itching to investigate. 

Coral was beautiful. It came in so many different colors and could be home to so many different types of sea creatures. (And, ever since befriending Kisame when the ex-Swordsman and Itachi had joined the army, Edge had always been rather fond of sharks.)

He spun around a few times, trying to get a rather affectionate sea-horse off his tail, then paused curiously as he came face to face with a blue-haired…mermaid?

He tilted his head, running through all the information his clones had gathered from the books he’d set them to reading earlier, while the navy-eyed woman stared at him in a sort of  speechless shock.

After a few moments of silence, Edge brightened. Now he recognized her! She was Aquarius, a celestial spirit that was connected to one of the twelve golden keys that could be summoned by a celestial mage. Her image had been depicted in a history book, alongside some mages that had been considered ‘noteworthy.’

He was rather glad he’d decided against stripping all the way down for this swim. He hated being caught completely naked by other people--even clothes were a type of armor, and Edge would rather that than be completely vulnerable. 

“What are  _ you  _ doing down here?” The water spirit questioned him, sounding irritated. Her voice had an echoey quality to it, probably do to the fact that they were underwater. “Actually,  _ how  _ are you down here?”

He gently touched his lips with two fingers, contemplating something. Then, he caught her eyes, before he began to kick his way up to the surface again. She followed after him, looking almost pissed-off, but curious nonetheless.

Their heads broke the small waves of the surface, and the female spirit spun to face him angrily. “Answer my question, human. What spell were you using to be able to stay underwater for that long?!”

He tilted his head at her, then smiled slightly. “Not a spell... Not really.” He reached up and channeled a small amount of chakra to his fingers in order to carefully wipe the markings he’d placed over his lips. “A seal that filters water into oxygen.”

Aquarius frowned. “So you’re a seal mage?”

He shook his head. “I’m not…” He bit his lip thoughtfully. “Never thought of myself as a  _ mage  _ before.”

She eyed him with narrowed eyes, and Edge blinked up at her as he treaded the water with careful strokes. “You’re a human that used magic--of course you’re a mage.”

The ninja took a deep breath, and the spirit looked almost enraged as she thought he was about to ignore her and submerge himself again. However, he only breathed it out again and laid back in the water, floating on the gentle waves.

“Not exactly,” he murmured. “Real humans are different than me. More of a monster.” Which was a bitter truth, when he thought about it. Here, if he was to tell someone all about the life he’d lived as the leader of a shinobi army, and of all the actions he participated in during the war, they’d most certainly call him a cold-hearted villain. The people here were far too soft for the ways of the ninja. They were somewhat naive and even immature, compared to most of the shinobi he’d met.

And maybe that’s why, for all that he didn’ not, he sort of belonged here too. Being under the care of the scientists had instilled even more of the likeness of a child into him than most. Burning their laboratory to the ground while under the influence of Kurama had felt like being completely reborn. In this utterly new and somewhat strange realm, he felt almost like a baby with his limited knowledge. 

She swam after him as the current began to carry him away. “What are you talking about--”

Then, Aquarius froze. Edge turned his head to the side, ignoring the water that now lapped at his ear, to observe her face. So she felt it too? The anger that the Kyuubi was emitting?

And he wondered at that. Why was his big brother (the fox had always been with him, had always looked after him and healed him and kept him as safe as his career could allow him to be) angry anyway?

An enraged rumble vibrated inside his chest, but Edge knew that Aquarius wouldn’t hear it. It came from deep within his mind. 

_ What’s wrong? _ he asked. But nothing.

“What was that?” The spirit demanded, and Edge surveyed her wearily. She reached out and grabbed him by the shoulders, possibly to shake the answer out of him, but her grip went limp so suddenly that the ninja had to hold her up, surprised, in order for her not to slip beneath the waves.

He frowned.  _ Why did you do that?  _

_ She was treating you in a way that was unacceptable _ , came the answer.  _ So I’m showing her just why she shouldn’t touch you like that.  _

Edge winced, knowing exactly what Kurama had done. It had happened once before, back when Sasuke had still been of the “burn Konoha to cinders” mentality, and had angrily claimed that Naruto knew  _ nothing  _ of pain, and Kurama had gotten  _ angry  _ (he’d tried to convince his friend to return, stating that he understood a little of what Sasuke was going through. This had been the moment when Naruto realized just what Shikamaru’s significance to him was--he’d understood then, because Sasuke most definitely was  _ not  _ his best friend). 

The bijuu had taken over Naruto’s body for a brief moment, smacking the Uchiha across the face. The hit had been backed by a multitude of the blond’s worst memories, and Sasuke had never looked at him the same way again.

Edge sighed, turning his back to Aquarius and looping her arms around his neck as he began to swim them back towards the shore. He prayed that Kurama had gone easy on her, because the thought of someone else ( _ anyone _ else) having to live through his childhood nightmares made him feel sick inside in a way that he didn’t quite understand.

Aquarius woke up on in the sand, groaning quietly. She carefully sat herself up, and had to withhold a shudder when she recalled her nightmare. 

Celestial spirits didn’t normally have nightmares(or dreams, for that matter), because they didn’t tend to actually  _ sleep  _ all that much. And when they did, their dreams were pretty mild.

But this one… she bit her lip, blinking furiously. She’d dreamed of meeting an attractive young man with blond hair in the ocean, wandering around one of her favorite coral reefs in the human world. She’d talked to him a bit, feeling a bit startled when he called himself a monster. But when she  _ touched  _ him, is when the dream really kicked off. She had suddenly been living the life of the mage when he’d been a child. Except, it was an entirely different world from Earthland. It was darker, cruel (so, so cruel), and nothing like she’d ever seen.

Then, that child had grown up, and she had suddenly found herself fighting in a war with her (his, they were  _ his _ ) friends, watching them fall, one by one around her. It hurt, more than anything she’d ever experienced, because she’d grown quite close to the red, pin-wheel eyed boy’s blind older brother. And to watch him go in such a way as that… It made her want to hurl. 

She choked back a quiet sob as she curled her tail around her, wincing at the suddenly too rough texture of the sand. It had been different in the Elemental Nations, more precise and smooth. Why had she had such a horrible dream? It made no sense, especially as it had been the realest dream she’d ever had in her long, long life. There was a sudden rustle of movement from beside her, and she turned.

Her heart nearly stopped.

It was him. It was the boy (who wasn’t a boy anymore, he was twenty five, but from deep down she knew he’d never been given the chance to be a  _ child _ ) from her dream.

Except, she realized, it hadn’t been a dream. The man was real, he was lying right beside her, still dressed in the faded, slightly off-color, orange tunic and black pants that were carefully tucked into white boots (specially crafted for the special ops division, with the soles absorbing much more sound than your average shinobi boots did, and were only issued to the ANBU of the--).

She shook her head, staring at him in silence. He was completely dry, his clothes looking as if they’d never even come in contact with salt water. The young man lay curled up in the sand, not any farther than a foot and a half away and sleeping soundly. 

Aquarius slowly reached out a hand to touch his blond hair, marveling at how soft it was and cursing herself for the way her limbs were trembling. 

She barely even moved when those eyes of his opened, and the variety of colors sent shivers down her spine, especially when she knew  _ the story behind them _ . 

Edge carefully uncurled himself and sat up to meet her gaze. He didn’t flinch back when she moved her hand to touch the corner of his eye--not the lilac one, but the other. She could barely bring herself to look at the Byakugan, despite knowing the reason for it’s presence within the blond’s socket.

No, instead she focused on the other. It was blue, like her-- _ his _ father’s, but not quite. There was a blood red that swam just along the edges, blurring into the color of the ocean that she was so fond of. The Kyuubi.

“So that’s why,” she whispered, voice broken like the waves when they came crashing down upon the shore. With a sigh that shook like the brittle leaves of autumn, she flung herself forward and wrapped her arms around the mage- -because he  _ wasn’t  _ a monster (but he wasn’t a mage either, was he? He was a  _ ninja _ , a  _ shinobi _ , the  _ Lord Hokage _ ), no matter  _ what  _ he thought- -and buried her face into his shoulder. 

Edge leaned into her hug, just like she knew he would. Because in all her centuries of living, she’d never met a single human as fragmented and shattered as he. 

And that was how they ended up sitting next to one another on the beach, talking about anything and everything, Edge leaning sleepily against her shoulder and the warmth of the sand that had been baked day in and day out by the widespread rays of the sun beneath them. 

No one had ever made her smile like this, made her feel this odd sense of  _ contentment  _ before. Not even Scorpio, which, she thought suspiciously, was rather odd since the idiot was her boyfriend. 

Edge was just so interesting, though. Hhe was soft spoken and so obviously adoring of the completely  _ alive  _ world around them. He had a kind word for everything, and his outlook was brighter than even the stars in the celestial realm could claim to be. His view on life was  _ fresh  _ and just made Aquarius feel so relaxed and full.

She was renowned for being a moody, rather bitter spirit that had a harsh personality. Scorpio was never allowed to see that side of her, due to his status… But Aquarius felt horrible about the thought of treating Edge like she treated Lucy and practically everyone else. Edge was innocent in a childish kind of way (which still held true despite him having been forced through all the tragedy and heartache that the shinobi lifestyle wrought), and that made her uneasy of treating him badly in any way. In fact, the very thought of someone else treating Edge like that made her insides curl and her jaw clench.

She understood now, why Kurama had reacted to her the way he had. He felt the same as she did now- -probably even more intensely, having been a part of Edge’s life for as long as the bijuu had. 

“What are you going to do now?” She asked. He’d been telling her about the scientists, and if she didn’t know that the Kyuubi had already destroyed them utterly, she’d be on a quick route to Shirotsume and the dense mountains beyond it, to the clearing that held the illegal laboratory, in order for revenge on behalf of her new friend. 

The fools had dared harm the very one who was precious to the supposed personification of hatred, and so paid the price. 

Edge tilted his head, curling his toes into the sand. The boots and bandages had disappeared a while ago into a puff of smoke, and Aquarius hadn’t gotten around to asking him about seals yet. She knew a little about them in theory from Edge’s memories that she’d witnessed, and she caught sight of some storage seals marking the skin of the young mage’s shins and calves, but not enough that she knew exactly what they all did. 

“Don’t know,” he murmured, voice as soft and gentle as always. Back during the war, she knew, it had been a bit harsher and had held a commanding lilt to it out of the necessity of leading an army, but now that Edge was in Earthland with no death or decay in sight or scent, he felt like he could let that go. “I… I want someplace… safe.”

She leaned back and shifted her tail in the sand. “You should try and look to join a guild, then. If you find a good one, you can slide right in and then your guildmates can protect you.”

Edge frowned curiously at her. “Comrades?”

“I suppose,” she agreed. “But Edge, they’d be more like  _ friends _ . Guildmates are suppose to have close connections to each other.”

He stared at her, and Aquarius felt like smacking herself. How could she just blurt something like that out to him? Edge had just lost  _ all  _ of the friends that he had left in a single swoop, he couldn’t just make  _ new  _ ones. She knew him, despite having only met him a few hours before. She knew him by his memories and the knowledge that the scientists had shattered his mind--he’d feel like he was replacing them and, more importantly, Shikamaru. Not to mention Kiba and  _ Hinata _ . 

“You should join Fairy Tail,” she said, suddenly sitting up. He slid down a little at the abrupt loss of his resting block, but then straightened along with her, eyeing the spirit with interest. “It’s apparently claimed to be one of the best guilds, and I’ve heard a lot about them. They’re really protective of all their guildmates, even the new ones. Just by joining you’ll have most of their eternal loyalty, or so I’ve heard. They’re... incredibly friendly.” She eyed him warily for a moment. “Actually, they’re so friendly I think you’d much prefer to stay in the background.” After all, Edge was kind of shy when he wasn’t acting as a Captain Commander, or a hired killer. 

And he was so, so tired. She could see it in the way that his almond shaped eyes went half-lidded at times, and the way that he took naps as if they were going out of season. Kyuubi had been kind enough, after all, to lock away the more painful memories and ensure no horrible nightmares. He was left completely alone by the horrors of his past and memories when unconscious. The way in which Edge spoke, with a hint of exhaustion behind the words, made her want to shove him into an inn and make him sleep for a week. Fairy Tail and it’s boundless energy, as stupid as it sounded, might even be good for him. Plus, it was the guild that Lucy was so set on joining, which meant Aquarius was absolutely sure to see him again one day. 

“Sounds…” The ninja tilted his head slightly to the side, something that she noticed to be a bit of a habit of his, when he was considering something, with an odd sort of thoughtfulness, “...nice, I think.”

“It’ll also be a way for you to get some jewels,” she said quickly, seeing that he was still uncertain. “And that way you can be financially stable. It isn’t good to live out in the wild, isolated and all by yourself, Edge.”

He blinked up at her, face suddenly surprised, though it still held that hurt, that hint of self-doubt. Aquarius clenched her teeth, glancing down as she finally noticed she was giving off the glow of being summoned. Throughout their entire conversation, she’d been mentally begging the Spirit King that Lucy wouldn’t get into one of her lonely little moods again and summon her as a playmate (though, the girl was older, now a teenager, so perhaps calling her a brat was a bit harsh... Pft, _nah_), but it seemed not to have worked. 

She threw an almost desperate glance at her new friend, but Edge was only smiling that small, upward tilt of his lips at her. He carefully opened his arms and stepped forward to engulf her barely tangible body in an embrace, and rested his chin on her shoulder.

“I’ll go to Fairy Tail,” he murmured into her ear, just as she was vanishing. “Then, maybe... we can see each other again.”

She hoped sincerely that, when that time came, Edge’s smile was a bit more solid and  _ real _ . 


End file.
